Bring Me My Gun
by The Obsidian Angel
Summary: Tamaki and Haruhi go to Ranka asking for his good wishes on their new relationship. But Ranka isn't keen on letting perfect idiots court his daughter. Will Tamaki make it out of this encounter alive? One-shot.


This is just a little something that I thought of like 3 hours ago and woke up at **4 A.M in the morning** just to type out. So forgive me if it reads like 4 A.M writing XD I've been writing just comedy for years now so I've been trying to get back into the serious swing lately. It's going to be a **long and bumpy ride** (With much bad serious fic to prove that) but hopefully, I get better.

**This one shot is a lot more believable if you read the manga.**

I will be **updating the OHC** soon. It's just sometimes, you need that break. You_ know_? You don't know? Well, I do **X.X**

* * *

He sat at the dining table, hands wringing around assorted portions of the blue checkered cloth, eyes fearful. The other man sat across from him, expression set furiously in stone. He had known. He had known from the very beginning that something was very wrong. From the second that they'd smiled awkwardly at him from the apartment's cramped foyer. From their frequent exchanges of nervous glances. From sweaty palms and trembling shoulders- mostly his. It was only to be expected that he would grow suspicious. And the more his suspicions grew, the more they produced a silence so thick that even the bluntest of Haruhi's sharp edged remarks couldn't cut through the bulk of it. He pulled at the dampened collar of his creamy white button up and took another sip of bitter green tea. It was cool and sour going down. How long had they been sitting here?

"Se-" The small hand's grasp upon his shoulder tightened. "Tamaki."

He spewed the pale liquid back into its container, narrowly missing the table.

_His _glare deepened. _She_ ignored what she had become accustomed to. "Didn't you have something to tell my father?"

The cup shakily landed upon the blue and white squares. He avoided his reflection in the glassy liquid's sunbathed surface. "Ranka-san." An attempted smile pulled at the edges of his lips, but even he knew it looked forced. Awkward. "How are you doing this morning?"

"Okay." The unshaven transvestite grunted, eyes still fierce. "I would be better without idiots dropping by."

Tamaki winced, the insult stinging him directly in the chest where a swirl of anxiety and other emotions pulsated, swelled, and fed off of one another. Adrenaline pumped quicker through his veins. "I-I'm sorry."

"Take it slow." The low, yet feminine voice whispered calmly in his ear. It soothed him.

"So..." He began with as much cheer as he could muster. "Nice wedding we're having today, eh?"

The inner corners of the man's eyebrows curved in at a terrifying point. "_What?_"

"Weather!" The boy laughed nervously, an almost panicked sound. "Weather is what I meant!" Quivering fingers, desperate for occupation, reached anxiously for the plate of hotcakes at the center of the table. Using a metal fork, he attempted to slip one onto his plate, succeeding in dumping- not one- but all of the hotcakes there. Swallowing hard, he tried scraping the excess cakes back into their former plate, but the trembling in his muscles had rose to such a crescendo at this point, that they all fell splattering upon the tan colored rug. Ranka emitted a low, grumbling sound.

"I-I apolo-"

"No need to apologize." Haruhi sighed with the slightest hint of irritation as she reached down to retrieve the scattered bits of egg, milk, and flour. "I'll go make some more, dad." And with that, she left the two in their former silence, save for the whistling of an old air conditioner.

"I..." He fearfully started again. "I bet you just love weddings, Ranka-san."

Another grumble. "Not really."

"Well..." He repeatedly jabbed the fork too harshly into his palm, though he really didn't seem to register the pain. "I dream of getting married some day."

The man scoffed and shot him a look of snide disbelief. "Who would want to marry an idiot like you?"

He uttered a low sound of defeat, one hand suddenly rushing to nurse the other as if the insult had caused it rather than a fork and poor judgement.

More silence. Tick Tock Tick Tock went the digital hall clock. The air conditioner hummed.

"I- I guess I'll eat now..."

This garnered no response.

The blonde dipped a fork into his hotcakes. They were sure to be delicious. But his taste buds had numbed and they felt like sand and lumpy dough going down. His stomach burned and lurched. Nevertheless, he pressed on.

"These are great!" he lied, through a mouthful of sand and dough. "Haruhi can really kiss!"

Ranka's head shot up.

"Cook!" He slapped a hand over his lips. "I meant 'cook'."

"You said kiss." Ranka growled.

"N-No!" he nearly sobbed, eyes darting quickly about the polished kitchen area. "I really like what you've done with the place. It's so modest and adorable!"

"You've been kissing my daughter?!" The man's fingers clawed into the table cloth, eyes dark.

"I never proposed to Haruhi!"

"Huh?!" Ranka demanded viciously. "Who said anything about a proposal?!"

"I-I-"

"What do you take my daughter to be?!" he spat. "Your wife?!"

"I do." His pupils momentarily shone star struck, blood rushing to his face as a wedding altar flashed before his eyes. "That is..."

"Idiot-kun..." Ranka bent menacingly over the table. "Haruhi! Bring me my gun!"

"You don't_ have _a gun, Dad!" Haruhi groaned from the kitchen. "No hurting senpai!"

The blonde gave a sigh of relief as the smaller man reluctantly retreated to his side of the table.

"And senpai!" She started again, forgetting her promise not to call him by it anymore. "Will you cut it out with the running gag?!"

"I promise!" He called back with too much determination. "I promise not to do it anymore, Haruhi!" Not that he could help it much... He relaxed himself- to the best of his ability anyhow- and Ranka bided his time. The silence filled their ears with a tense static once more.

"R-Ranka-san?"

The man bit harshly into his thumbnail.

"Can you pass the soul mates forever?"

"That's it!" Ranka stormed up from the table, palms jamming down upon the cloth. Tamaki rose just seconds after, eyes wide, hands held up in defense.

"I- I just want to talk to you-"

"_You've done enough talking!_"

"I-"

"Shut up, senpai!"

"Haruhi!" He cried, relieved, as the girl exited the kitchen, her expression more weary than usual.

"You promised to stop it!"

"I know." He whined, just dodging two throat bound hands. "I just can't contain it!"

"Then just- SIT, Dad!"

Ranka glowered threateningly at his sworn enemy from across the room. Said enemy breathed deeply in and out, hand clutching at his pounding chest. Haruhi sighed and placed a hand to her forehead.

"I told you it was a bad idea." she said matter-of-factly. "You don't ever listen to reason-"

"Then what were we supposed to do?" he cut in, breathing still rushed. "Leave him to figure it out on his own?"

"Sure." Haruhi replied innocently. "Why not? It's just bothersome for him to know if he doesn't have to."

"Haruhi." He stifled a chuckle at her ever remaining indifference. He supposed that-even he- couldn't erase it completely. Not that he really cared to. "I want to do this the right way." Kneeling to the carpet, he placed a hand upon his chest, eyes completely sincere.

"Ranka-san?"

Ranka's heart leapt in his chest at what he dreaded he was about to hear. At what he'd dreaded he would eventually hear years ago when they first crossed paths.

"Haruhi..."

His fingernails dug into his palms.

"Haruhi and I..."

His auburn locks fell over his eyes.

"Haruhi and I..."

He cocked a brow.

"We're together." Haruhi finished blankly.

"Haruhi!" The blonde spun around with wild eyes. "I was going to tell him!"

"You were taking too long, senpai."

"Senpai?!"

"I see." Ranka uttered, his eyes wistful as he knelt beside the table once more, legs weak from something more than chasing fools.

"So what do you say, father?" Tamaki leaned forward, one hand outstretched. "Do we have your best wishes?" Haruhi smiled down from his side.

_His_ side. Ryouji chuckled inwardly. His time was finally up he supposed. The steady tick-tock mocked him. His time was up and now he'd turn her over to a perfect idiot. He chuckled again. An ironic turn of events, he thought as he gazed up at the two naive faces, beaming with a contagious yet unattainable energy. An ironic turn of events because said idiot evoked the memory of another idiot he once knew- saner, but just as ridiculous. Because together, like this, they triggered the release of faraway recollections, surfacing as if brand new, as touchable as the sunlight dancing upon the walls. Because the sight of their glowing faces brought him more unequivocal joy and more sorrow than he had known in years. His time was up and something old and new and sad and beautiful had been born again.

"Eh, father?" The new idiot's hand wavered slightly. "Do we have your permission?"

His own hand reached out, calloused and weathered with the past, to wish a better future upon the present. "Granted." He only half frowned.

"Ranka-san!" The blonde gushed.

"Tamaki." Her loving eyes never left him.

"Idiot-kun."

* * *

And then Grandma Suou comes along and **SHOOPS DA WOOP!** THE END!

j/k

I'm a **huge Tamaki/Haruhi fangirl** and I thought I should actually show it for once instead of giving Kyou/Tama my undivided attention. It's not like that's ever going to happen anyway (Curses!) But honestly, this just hit me in the middle of the night and I thought "Eeeeee!" I'll probably hate it when I wake up at 7 P.M tonight... **My sleep schedule is shot now**... Gyah... Goodnight, people.


End file.
